“Tuck in your tail!” Mapleshade ordered.
Crookedpaw twined his tail around his hind legs as he reared up, slashing with his forepaws. Unbalanced, he staggered, his tail catching between his paws. “Oomph!” He fell with a thud to the dark earth.
“You’ve got two mentors and you can’t even stay on your paws,” Mapleshade growled. “Get up.”
Crookedpaw was already scrambling to his paws. “What’s the point of tucking in my tail?” he mewed crossly.
“The less you give your enemy to grab hold of, the better,” Mapleshade explained.
“But I can’t balance.”
“You’ll just have to keep practicing until you can.” Mapleshade paced around him. “Now try again.”
Concentrating, Crookedpaw shifted his paws, then heaved himself into the air once more. Tucking his tail around his hind legs, he slashed again. His muscles burned. He tried to balance, but the swing of his forepaws sent him staggering forward.
“Frog dung!” He dropped on to four paws before he fell.
“You’re getting close,” Mapleshade encouraged.
“Not close enough,” Crookedpaw grunted through clenched teeth. He tried again and again, each time staying up a moment longer until, aching, he stopped and let his tail droop.
“Keep going!” Mapleshade ordered.
“Don’t forget I train all day with Cedarpelt, too,” he grumbled.
“You want to be the best warrior in RiverClan, don’t you?” Mapleshade circled him impatiently.
“Of course,” Crookedpaw snapped. “But I need a rest.” He gazed into the shadowy forest. “Why don’t you show me around StarClan territory?” He blinked hopefully at Mapleshade. “Cedarpelt showed me around RiverClan territory on my first day as an apprentice.”
“Not till you’ve got this move right.”
“I’ll practice it tomorrow night.” Crookedpaw stood up. “I want to see what’s beyond the trees.” He padded forward. “There must be more to StarClan’s hunting grounds than this smelly old forest.”
Mapleshade shot in front of him, her orange-and-white pelt blocking his view.
He peered over her, straining to see through the mist. “Come on,” he pleaded. “Just take me to the edge of the trees so I can see what’s behind them.”
“No!” Mapleshade’s command was sharp. She wove around him, steering him back into the dingy clearing. “You’re not ready.”
Crookedpaw growled. “It’s not fair!”
Mapleshade’s claws stung his ear.
“What was that for?” he gasped. She’d drawn blood. He could feel it, warm and wet, on his ear tip. He rubbed it with his paw.
She glared at him. “Remember your promise!” she hissed. “You must be prepared to do anything for the sake of the Clan.”
“What’s that got to do with exploring StarClan territory?” Crookedpaw retorted.
Mapleshade narrowed her eyes. “You’re not here to ask questions. You’re here to learn. Or you’ll have more than a scratched ear to worry about.”
“Is that blood on your ear?”
Crookedpaw felt a rough tongue lick the wound Mapleshade had left. He blinked open his eyes. “Get off, Oakpaw.” Ducking away from his brother, he sat up. His muscles ached, strained and tired.
Oakpaw was still staring at his ear. “Did you catch it on something? Is there a thorn in your nest?”
Crookedpaw sniffed the chilly dawn air. “I probably did it in my sleep. Scratching a flea.” Sometimes he wished he could tell Oakpaw about his StarClan mentor, but he’d promised to obey Mapleshade and she’d sworn him to secrecy. How could he argue with StarClan?
Rain thrummed on the den roof. Beetlepaw, Volepaw, and Petalpaw were still curled in their nests. Stiffly, Crookedpaw stepped out of his nest. “Has the dawn patrol left?”
Oakpaw shook his head. “They’re in the clearing.”
Crookedpaw pricked his ears. He could hear Cedarpelt’s deep mew beyond the den wall.
“Are we going to leave markers below Sunningrocks?”
Lakeshine answered. “I hope not,” she sighed. “It’d be like admitting we agree with the changed border.”
Crookedpaw listened to Mudfur’s throaty growl. “All this fighting over a lump of rock.”
“It’s our territory!” Cedarpelt snapped. “We can’t give it up.”
Crookedpaw flexed his aching claws and winced.
“Are you okay?” Oakpaw fretted. “Maybe you should go and see Brambleberry. At least she could put some ointment on your ear.”
“I’m fine,” Crookedpaw insisted. It hardly stung. Besides, warriors always had nicks in their ears. He licked a paw and rubbed off the dried blood. The cut felt straight and shallow underneath.
Beetlepaw stretched, his black pelt no more than a shadow in the watery dawn light. “Who’s coming on patrol?” He sat up. “Hailstar’s leading it.”
“Me!” Petalpaw hopped out of her nest. “What about you?” She glanced at Crookedpaw as Beetlepaw pushed past her to the entrance. “Cedarpelt’s going.”
“I hope so,” Crookedpaw mewed. If Beetlepaw was patrolling, he didn’t want to be stuck in camp. He glanced at Oakpaw. “What are you doing today?”
“Shellheart’s taking me fishing with Volepaw and Rippleclaw.”
Volepaw sleepily lifted his head. “If it keeps raining like this, the fish will come to us.”
“In your dreams!” Purring, Crookedpaw flicked Volepaw’s flank with his tail and nosed his way out of the den. Through a haze of rain he saw Shellheart assigning patrols beneath a branch of the fallen tree. Echomist, Timberfur, Brightsky, and Owlfur clustered around him, beads of rain streaming from their glossy coats like water off duck feathers. “I want you to lead the hunting patrol, Echomist,” Shellheart ordered.
Cedarpelt paced the sedge wall while Lakeshine and Mudfur huddled next to each other, their gaze fixed on Hailstar’s den. Its draping moss quivered as the RiverClan leader padded out. “Petalpaw!”
She was nosing through the soggy pile of prey. She looked up eagerly.
“Don’t keep us waiting,” Hailstar warned.
Lakeshine snorted. “Waiting indeed! He’s the one sitting in his den keeping his ears dry,” she muttered as Petalpaw fell in beside Mudfur.
“Wait for me!” Crookedpaw raced after Cedarpelt as Hailstar led the way out of camp.
Cedarpelt paused in the entrance. “Next time.”
Crookedpaw slithered to a halt. “Why not this time?”
“We’re checking the borders,” Cedarpelt told him. “We might meet an enemy patrol and I haven’t assessed your battle skills yet.”
“They’re fine!” This could be his chance to use some of the moves Mapleshade had taught him.
Cedarpelt narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be the one to decide that!”
“Are you coming?” Lakeshine called from the tunnel.
“I’ll assess you this afternoon.” Cedarpelt turned and headed through the sedge. “I promise.”
Crookedpaw’s tail drooped, slapping into a puddle. He heard a squeak behind him.
“Watch out!”
He turned and saw Willowkit rubbing water from her nose. “Sorry!” he mewed. “Did I splash you?”
Graykit stood beside her sister, whiskers quivering. “She was trying to stalk you.”
“I nearly got you!” Willowkit puffed out her rain-spiked fur.
Crookedpaw stifled a purr. “Shouldn’t you be in the nursery keeping dry?”
Graykit lifted her muzzle. “We’re RiverClan cats.” She sniffed. “We’re supposed to get wet.”
“There’s wet and there’s drowned!” Brambleberry’s stern mew made Graykit jump. The medicine cat was padding from her den. “I don’t think Fallowtail will thank you for traipsing a puddleful of rain into the nursery.” The medicine cat halted beside Crookedpaw. “If you’ve nothing better to do,” she caught his eye, “you could fetch me some coltsfoot.”